


Unusual Occurrences

by Azaelia_Foxburr



Category: Jeeves & Wooster
Genre: Crack, I don't even really like mpreg???, M/M, Mpreg, but this seemed so cute in my head, what is my brain even
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 13:11:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3121403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azaelia_Foxburr/pseuds/Azaelia_Foxburr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of unusual occurrences happen in the Wooster household...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unusual Occurrences

**Author's Note:**

> So, for convenience sake (let's call it artistic license) let's pretend this is a world where both males and females can get pregnant, because I am too much of a lazy blot on the landscape to come up with any proper theories. Forgive me. So everything is pretty much sunshine and fluff, and the only thing out of the norm about Bertie and Jeeves' relationship is that it's interclass.
> 
> Inspired by a Jooster mpreg fic I read somewhere that got me wondering what Jeeves would be like if he was the pregnant one instead... This is the sorry result, I'm afraid to say.

It all started the day Bertie woke up to find a distinct lack of Jeeves in the bedroom.

In all the years he had known the man, he had never once woken up without that familiar figure standing by the bed (and later on, beside him in the bed) ready with his morning tea at hand and a friendly "Good morning, sir". The absence of Jeeves was so disconcerting it was nearly surreal, and Bertie almost thought he might still be asleep and simply dreaming until he heard the sound of retching coming from the en suite bathroom.

Bertie leapt out of bed without a second thought and flung open the bathroom door. Jeeves was standing over the sink, rinsing his mouth with a glass of water. When he turned to look at Bertie his face was wan and pale.

"Good morning, sir," he greeted, characteristically velvet voice worryingly hoarse.

"It bally well is not a good morning, Jeeves," Bertie snapped, worried, as he went up to cup his husband's face in his hands.

"My god Jeeves, you look terrible. I heard the sound of vomiting coming from the bathroom--I suppose that was you?"

"Indeed, sir," Jeeves nearly sighed, leaning in to Bertie's touch.

"I am afraid I awoke feeling somewhat under the weather, and was shortly overcome by nausea."

"My poor love," Bertie murmured sympathetically, tiptoeing upwards to plant a kiss on Jeeves' forehead "Perhaps it was something you ate?"

"Perhaps, sir. I am sure I will be better directly."

"Mm...Still, I think it'd be better to call the doctor round, what?"

"A fine suggestion, sir."

.

.

.

"Attention! Ahem...Attentio--Ouch! Stop throwing those blasted dinner rolls, Bingo--Attention, everyone! I have an important announcement to make!"

Bertie clinked his wine glass with his fork till the noise in the Drones dining hall had died down somewhat, and continued with his announcement.

"Today Bertram Wilberforce Wooster stands before you as a man blessed beyond belief. All of you know, of course, my brilliant, peerless, wonderful..."

"Oh get on with it, Wooster! Lord knows you wax lyrical enough about that husband of yours as it is!"

"...gorgeous,  _polite_ , husband, Jeeves." Bertie said, pointedly emphasizing the last adjective, "And I thought when I married him I was the luckiest man alive. But of course he has gone to prove me wrong, as always, and made me even luckier. For I am pleased to inform you, as you shall all be equally pleased to hear, that in a few months time yours truly shall cease to be the youngest of the Woosters."

It took a moment for the words to sink in, but sure enough, when they did, the hall broke out in thunderous applause, punctuated by various cheers and whistles.

"Well done, Wooster!"

"About time, you ass!"

"Never thought you had it in you, old man!"

"Ah-ha! Fink-Nottle, this means you owe me 10 quid for betting on Bertie! I always said it would be Jeeves."

Bertie turned pink with pleasure as the various eggs, beans and crumpets came up to pump his hand and wish him a hearty congratulations. He was a little flustered by the sudden onslaught of attention, and more than a little embarrassed, but nothing could stop the growing smile on his face.

.

.

.

"Jeeves!"

"Sir?"

"This really has to stop!"

"What has to stop, sir?"

"This!" Bertie cried exasperatedly, giving his butternut squash a frustrated prod with his spoon.

"Two days in a row of butternut squash is manageable, three days is stretching it slightly, but four?! Four days is just about taking the giddy biscuit, Jeeves!"

"Butternut squash is currently in season, sir. There have been some excellent specimens at the market recently."

"That's all very well and good, Jeeves, but a man needs a bit more to his diet than just one old vegetable! Variety being the whatsit of life, and all that."

"The spice of life, sir?"

"Right-ho, that's the one. So yes, variety has been sorely lacking on the menu lately and I--Jeeves what on earth are you doing? Is that...tobasco?"

"Yes, sir. I have been having the most inexplicable urge to try the sauce with butternut squash. Would you like some?"

"...No thank you, Jeeves."

.

.

.

(Eventually after six consecutive days of assorted butternut squash dishes, even Jeeves had been forced to admit his craving was getting a little out of hand. They reached a compromise when Jeeves agreed to prepare separate meals for the both of them, to Bertie's eternal relief. Bertie has always had a slight aversion to the vegetable ever since, however.)

.

.

.

It was a fine Spring day. The air was cool and crisp, and a light breeze whipped through the park where Bertie and Jeeves were taking a stroll.

"Oh!" Jeeves gasped softly, coming to a sudden halt.

"Is everything alright, love?" Bertie frowned, concerned.

"It is no matter sir, only--oh!" Jeeves ' hand came up to rest lightly on his stomach. His eyebrows quirked in the manner Bertie had come to recognize as Jeeves' trying to deduce something he did not yet fully comprehend.

"I believe, sir, that our child has just kicked me."

Bertie's face broke into a delighted grin and he quickly guided Jeeves to sit at the closest park bench. Before Jeeves could say anything, Bertie had gone down on his knees in front of Jeeves.

"Sir, you will ruin your trousers," Jeeves said disapprovingly.

"Shush, Jeeves," Bertie bent his head and pressed one ear against Jeeves stomach.

"Sir, we are currently in public. This is highly inappropri--"

"Shh! I think I heard something!" Bertie interrupted, and pressed his ear closer.

All of a sudden, Bertie heard a muffled sort of thud close to his ear.

"Jeeves! Did you hear that?" Bertie tittered excitedly, blue eyes sparkling like a child on Christmas day.

Jeeves gazed fondly at his ridiculous husband and reached down to affectionately tuck an errant curl behind his ear.

"I did not hear it, but I certainly felt it, sir."

Bertie gave Jeeves' stomach an approving pat. "I say, Jeeves, we might have a football star in here!"

"Perhaps, sir," Jeeves replied in that way of his that meant he did not agree with Bertie but was simply choosing to humour him. "Now, please get up sir, before your trousers are beyond salvation; you have damaged them quite enough already."

.

.

.

"Jeeves! What on earth are you doing?"

Jeeves straightened, startled at having been caught. A look of guilt crossed his map momentarily, but he quickly schooled his features into polite incomprehension.

"I must apologize, sir. I'm afraid I do not understand your accusations."

Bertie's eyes narrowed. "Don't you try and play innocent with me Jeeves. I saw you holding it!"

"Are you referring to this, sir?" Jeeves asked, raising the ceramic shepherdess in his hand. "I simply wished to inspect the ornament in greater detail, hence I picked it up to get a better look."

"Nonsense Jeeves, you hate the bally thing as much as I do. It pains you to even look at it; I've seen you flinch every time you walk past the mantel piece. The reason why you were holding it was because you were dusting, that's what!"

"Sir!" Jeeves' tone was almost convincingly indignant. Almost.

"Don't think I can't see the feather duster, Jeeves. It's poking out from behind the chesterfield." Bertie said blandly, crossing his arms over his chest.

Jeeves gave him a decidedly murderous glare, but Bertie refused to be withered by it. He was going to stand firm on this argument.

"Jeeves, I've said it before and I've said it again; you are not to do any housework. You're six months pregnant, for God's sake! I can't have you prancing about the flat dusting and sweeping and what have you!"

"I am carrying a child, sir; I did not turn into glass. I am not in so delicate a state as you seem to think. And," at this point a pained grimace contorted Jeeves' face "Mrs. Merriweather is a highly superficial duster. The dust in the crevices of the shepherdess's bonnet is appalling."

"Now, now, Jeeves not everyone can be as brilliant as you in matters of cleaning. Mrs. Merriweather is only a mere mortal like the rest of us."

Jeeves softened slightly as Bertie's teasing flattery, righteous anger dissipating somewhat.

"I am sorry, sir," Jeeves murmured apologetically "But I am finding it very hard to break out of my usual routine of doing the household chores. It is frustrating that I am not allowed to clean my own flat when I am perfectly capable of doing so."

Jeeves' voice had by now taken on a tone that in anyone else would have been called petulant.

"You're sulking, Jeeves," Bertie chided jokingly as he stepped closer to Jeeves.

"Forgive me for saying so, sir, but I would never do such an undignified thing,"

Bertie only laughed and leaned forward to wipe away Jeeves' pout with a kiss.

.

.

.

Bertie was lying sprawled on the chesterfield, nose buried in his latest mystery novel, when a mild, sheep like cough sounded from above him.

"I am afraid we have run out of tea, sir."

"Oh, no problem, Jeeves," Bertie waved the matter off with an airy hand "I'm sure I can live--Jeeves!"

"Sir?"

"Jeeves...are you...Are those tears?"

"It appears so, sir," came Jeeves somewhat bewildered reply as he reached up a hand to wipe his moist cheek.

"Good lord! Sit down, man."

Bertie gently coaxed his husband to join him on the chesterfield and ran a soothing hand over his back.

"I must apologise, sir. It is completely illogical, but this incident has left me feeling unduly distressed. It is most disturbing, but it seems my control over my emotions has become somewhat erratic as of late."

Jeeves looked utterly at a lost at that moment, his expression a mixture of astonishment, distress and above all, displeasure. It was almost as if the man was affronted by his own emotions for their lack of self discipline.

Bertie couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his lips as he reached both arms around his husband and drew him in close.

"I think these are the mood swings people have been warning us about, Jeeves."

"Indeed, sir. They are most unpleasant, and quite unreasonable." Jeeves reply was coloured with a tone of distinct disapproval.

Bertie smiled into Jeeves shoulder. Of course he could trust Jeeves to retain that impeccable feudal propriety in the face of unstable hormones.

"I'd buy you all the tea in China if it'd make you happy, Jeeves."

"Thank you sir, but one pot would be more than sufficient. Nevertheless, the sentiment is appreciated."

.

.

.

"Sir."

The bitterly icy tone of Jeeves voice was enough to halt Bertie in his tracks then and there.

"Y-yes, Jeeves?" Bertie plastered as wide and innocent a grin on his face as he could manage.

"May I remind you, sir, that today is the 18th of September?"

"Err...sorry old thing, but I don't quite see what you're getting at," Bertie frowned quizzically.

"I thought you might have mistaken the date to be the 1st of April, sir."

"Whatever made you think that, Jeeves?"

"I apologise, sir. I thought perhaps you chose to wear that jacket as a practical joke, as is in line with the usual practice of April the 1st. But it appears this is a more serious case than I thought; you have obviously gone colour blind."

"Now see here, Jeeves--!"

One eyebrow raised to the dangerous height of three quarters of an inch.

"Do you mean to say, sir, that you purposefully intended to leave the premises wearing that...thing?"

Bertie frowned in annoyance and looked down at his red-and-orange-striped jacket; he thought it looked absolutely corking, and had every intention of telling Jeeves so.

"I think it looks absolutely corking!" Bertie told Jeeves.

" _Oh,_ sir?"

And there was something entirely rummy about the way Jeeves said it, coupled with the rather predatory steps that Jeeves took towards him, that sent a tingle down Bertie's spine. A little like the tingle he got when Aunt Agatha made an unannounced lunch visit.

"No father of my child will ever leave the house wearing such a monstrosity. I must insist you remove the garment at once, sir."

"Now, see here Jeeves--"

But before Bertie could tell Jeeves exactly there was to see, the man had spirited himself away and neither hide nor hair of him was to be seen. The jacket, it seemed, had been spirited away along with him.

"Jeeves!"

"Yes, sir?"

The man shimmered back into Bertie's view, a navy blue jacket draped across one arm.

"Your jacket, sir," Jeeves said, helpfully assisting Bertie into it.

"Dash it, Jeeves! I don't want to wear this bally jacket! I want my red and orange one!"

Bertie sounded like a temper tantrum throwing five year old even to himself, but he staunchly refused to acknowledge it. Brusquely, he tugged off the jacket before defiantly plonking it back into Jeeves' arms. 

"But the blue suits you most admirably, sir," Jeeves placated. Then he leaned forward to kiss Bertie, long and deep, so that by the time it ended Bertie's insides had been thoroughly turned to mush. Warm, happy mush, admittedly, but mush nonetheless.

Bertie gaped for a bit, eyes as wide as that of a rather startled, confused goldfish. It was so rare for Jeeves to initiate any sort of physical affection that the whole incident had taken him quite by surprise.

Still dazed from Jeeves' uncharacteristic (but by no means unwelcome) behaviour, Bertie was gently shooed out the flat. The next thing he registered was walking down the street towards the Drones Club.

When he looked down at himself, he realised he was wearing the navy blue jacket.

.

.

.

"Jeeves! You're--you're leaking!"

"Indeed, sir. I came to inform you that my water has broken."

"Great Scott! I-I'll call the midwife immediately!"

"That would be most satisfactory, sir."

Once Bertie had lowered Jeeves into the armchair, he dashed down the hall to the telephone. A few minutes later Jeeves could hear Bertie's panicked garbling and realised it might have been a wiser course of action to have made the call himself. Cautiously, he eased himself up from the chair and made his way to Bertie.

"Allow me, sir," he told Bertie in a kind but firm voice, and removed the telephone from his husband's anxious grasp.

"Good afternoon,"

"Oh! Mr. Jeeves, is that you?"

"Yes, Nurse Lee. My water just broke."

"Ah, I see. I was a little confused for a moment back there; I'm afraid Mr. Wooster wasn't very clear just now."

"I do apologise on my husband's behalf, Nurse Lee. He has never been particularly adept at handling unusual situations, and I'm afraid he's in a rather frazzled state at the moment."

"Quite understandable, Mr. Jeeves. The first timers are always like that. Anyway, don't you worry too much--I'll come around right away."

"Thank you, Nurse Lee. Are any preparations required?"

"Towels and lots of hot water should just about do the trick. Also, lay out some newspapers on the bed."

"I will see to it immediately. Goodbye, Nurse Lee."

Jeeves allowed an agitated Bertie to help him onto the bed and then gave him instructions to fill the tub with hot water and fetch some towels from the linen cupboard.

"You'll be absolutely brilliant, my love," Bertie whispered as he pressed a kiss to Jeeves' cheek, though Jeeves suspected it was more to reassure himself than Jeeves.

"Of course, darling," Jeeves smiled, humouring him. "And you will be brilliant as well, Bertram."

Jeeves watched Bertie leave the room, then lay back to mentally prepare himself for what was to come. He remembered the advice of Dr. Balestier in his book "Pregnancy: Perils and Preparation" (he thought the alliteration a little kitschy but the book had proved surprisingly informative) and willed himself to relax his body and calm his state of mind.

Jeeves lay staring at the ceiling when he suddenly remembered, with a jolt of remorse, the puddle he'd left on the living room carpet.

_I just had that cleaned last week._

.

.

.

"He's  _beautiful_ ," Bertie breathed, awestruck.

Jeeves only smiled and tenderly stroked a wisp of hair away from the baby's face, too exhausted from his exertions to speak.

The little family of three remained in that perfect tableau for a while; Bertie perched on one side of the bed, a loving arm around Jeeves' shoulders; Jeeves cradling the newborn baby in his arms, leaning back into his husband's embrace; both of them wearing the same besotted expressions as they gazed at their child with undisguised adoration.

Nurse Lee leaned against the chest of drawers, tired but happy. Her lips twitched upwards into a warm smile as she looked at the family; it was moments like these that she loved the most about her job, that made it so utterly worthwhile.

"Would you like to hold him?" Jeeves asked quietly.

A moment of hesitation, then an almost imperceptible nod.

Bertie reached out with trembling hands, gently, reverently lifting the child out of Jeeves' arms and into his own.

Roused by the movement, the baby's eyes fluttered open, and Bertie found himself staring into a pair of familiar blue grey eyes on an unfamiliar face.

"He's got your eyes, Jeeves," Bertie chuckled somewhat shakily as the child reached out to grasp his finger with an inquisitive hand, and it suddenly struck home that this was  _his_  child, his  _son._

"So it would appear, sir,"

As if aware of his prominence in the conversation and pleased by it, the baby gave a little burble and broke into a wide grin.

"...But it seems he has your smile."

"Have you decided on a name yet?" Nurse Lee broke in then, clipboard in hand.

Bertie and Jeeves turned to look at each other. They'd discussed it before of course; countless times, in fact, lying side by side in their bed, conversing deep into the night. They had come up with a long list of names, both for boys as well as girls, but they had never actually settled on one.

Bertie glanced down at his son (still such a strange concept, yet so thrilling) and suddenly one of the names that had popped up in their conversation just the night before appeared in his mind.

"Anthony," he said softly. It just seemed right, somehow.

"Anthony," he said again, a little louder this time, and turned to Jeeves "What do you think, my love?"

Jeeves nodded approvingly, eyes twinkling.

"A most satisfactory choice, sir."

"Anthony Wooster," Bertie tried out the name on his tongue "I like it."

"How about a middle name?" Nurse Lee asked, pen poised over the birth certificate.

Bertie pondered for a moment, then was struck by inspiration.

"I say! Jeeves, what do you think of carrying on a bit of Wooster tradition? I've never actually bet on a winning horse before, but how about that pig that won me a pretty sum back at that funny little market fair in Shropshire--?"

"I hardly think 'Empress of Blandings' would be a suitable name for our child. Or any child, for that matter," Jeeves cut in dryly, one eyebrow arched as if to say  _don't you_  dare _, Wooster_.

"Ah well yes, just a thought really..." Bertie quickly quelled under force of the Eyebrow.

"Perhaps a name such as Laurence would be a more suitable choice, sir."

Bertie wrinkled his nose slightly, but obliged Jeeves.

"Anthony Laurence Wooster," he experimented. It wasn't half bad when said aloud, actually. Had a bit of a ring to it.

"I think that's a lovely name," Nurse Lee smiled "Shall I write it down, then?"

"Yes, please," Bertie replied, then turned to beamed down at the newly christened child in his arms "Hullo there, Tony boy. I'm your papa!"

Anthony Laurence Wooster promptly beamed right back.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> (the red and orange jacket is real, I'm afraid to say. It's a school blazer and the moment I saw it all I could think was "Jeeves would hate this." and I just had to put it in)


End file.
